


Things My Heart Used to Know

by Diamantspitzhacke (RedSoleWrites)



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Anastasia (1997 & Broadway) Fusion, Amnesia, Character Death, Clay | Dream and Toby Smith | Tubbo are Siblings, Dad!Sparklez, Fluff and Angst, Gen, How Do I Tag, No Beta We Die Like Philza Minecraft Has Just Been Armed, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, RIP, SO, but he is dead now, like idk if i'd consider the captain's death "major character death", that's right we're doing an anastasia au boyos
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:13:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28308810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedSoleWrites/pseuds/Diamantspitzhacke
Summary: One wintry night, a time of celebration quickly turns into one of fear and grief.Revolutionaries overthrow the monarchy, killing the king and sending the oldest prince into hiding.The younger prince disappears.Ten years later, a boy named Tubbo with no memory of his past stumbles into Manberg, hoping to leave the country and follow the only clue to his identity that he has left.When he bumps into a pair of the greatest conmen the city's ever seen, well, things can only go interestingly from there.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & Toby Smith | Tubbo, No Romantic Relationship(s)
Comments: 57
Kudos: 158





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Wooooo, happy holidays! Enjoy some wholesome (mostly), absolutely non-canon content.
> 
> Featuring a star cast that is yet to be fully revealed and a great time filled with friendship and adventure.
> 
> A special shoutout to my discord! They're all amazing and I love them to bits. This is your gift! I love you all!

Snow fluttered heavily down from the heavens, piling up against the frost-speckled windows of the palace. Swirls of delicate ice painted their way across the glass, spiraling inwards and branching into each other.

With eager hands, the young prince pressed himself against the window as well, gazing outside with an excited eye. His nose was smooshed and his forehead and cheeks left their own imprints on the otherwise-clean glass. His breath created dense clouds of white, fogging the window.

“Your Highness! Your Highness, I really must insist!” a harried young woman called from the doorway of the boy’s room. “It is _imperative_ that you be dressed properly for this occasion! Please, your Highness, if you would just cooperate-”

The boy giggled and ignored her, content to sit at his window in his pajamas and watch the snowflakes fall. He knew what he was supposed to be doing, he knew that he shouldn’t be cooped up inside his room, but he was also at the particularly stubborn age where the opinions of others, besides a select few, were something to be disregarded.

“Your Highness, _please_ -”

“It’s okay, Alyssa, I can take this one.”

Speaking of those select few. At the familiar voice, the young boy broke his gaze from the snowy outdoors and quickly got up from his spot. He grinned widely, sprinting into the arms of the older boy who had entered. “Dream!”

Dream caught him, a matching smile adorning his young face. He picked him up and spun him around. “Hey, Tubbo! How’s my favorite little brother tonight?”

Tubbo wrinkled his nose good-naturedly. “I’m your _only_ little brother, though.”

“Well, that just makes you a shoo-in, now doesn’t it?”

Tubbo laughed again. Dream set him down, dusting off his hands and crouching down to Tubbo’s significantly shorter eye-level. “Now, what’s this I hear about you not getting ready?”

“Well, Miss Alyssa said I had to get dressed, but I don’t really think I wanna.”

“And why’s that?” Dream asked.

“My pajamas are already warm! And there’s gonna be so many people out there! And what if I mess up or trip over my feet or mix up someone’s name?”

“Those are all very reasonable to me,” Dream nodded, putting on a serious face. His eyes flickered to Alyssa, still standing in the door. “I couldn’t possibly argue with that logic. But!” and here he reached into his pocket, closing his hand around a large lump hidden there, “I do have a gift. But, oh, what a shame! It’s only for good brothers who are all dressed and ready for their official announcement. Mm, too bad, Tubbo. I guess I’ll have to keep it to myself.”

“Oh, no! No! I’m ready, I’m ready, I promise!” Tubbo cried, reaching for Dream’s hand.

“But you’re still in your pajamas,” Dream noted.

“I’ll fix it! I’ll fix it!”

The youngest prince quickly moved to do just that, diving into his closet and pulling on the proper regalia required for such a prestigious event. Bedecked smartly in green, he was a tiny, brunette version of Dream. Both wore emerald green jackets, though Dream’s had an added set of epaulettes hanging over his shoulders. They had similar black slacks on with sensible leather shoes. Dream, though, had additional embellishments and accessories, gold chains and a white sash meant to signify his position as Heir Apparent and eventual Crown Prince.

Tubbo scrambled back out to stand at attention in front of his older brother. He brushed himself off. “Is this good?”

Dream looked him up and down, assessing with a critical eye while also doing his best to hold back his visible pride. “Hm…”

The younger prince rocked back and forth excitedly. “Come on, come on, come on!”

“It’ll do,” Dream sighed dramatically, slumping over in a nearby chair, defeated. Tubbo hurried to hound him for the gift, bouncing up and down with his hands on Dream’s knee. Slowly, far too slowly, Dream drew his hand back into his pocket.

“What is it?”

“You’ll have to wait and see,” Dream sing-songed.

From his pocket, he withdrew an intricate golden statuette, shaped like a man. The only deviation from the gold were the tiny emeralds embedded in place of eyes. It was small, no bigger than the palm of Dream’s hand, hanging from a golden chain. Dream slipped the pendant around Tubbo’s head, fastening it around his neck.

Tubbo held the statuette up to the light, watching it sparkle. It was with that examination that he noticed an engraving, too small to be viewed from a distance.

“‘Together in Holandwime,’” Tubbo read, turning the statuette to follow the twist of the words. “Dream? Does this mean-?”

Dream nodded excitedly. “After this party, we’re going to Holandwime! You, me, dad, the whole family! And, that necklace isn’t all.” He pulled out a small round box as well, set in green jade with gold filigree along the edges and seams. Turning it to show a small indentation in the side, Dream gestured to Tubbo. “See if you can figure it out.”

The younger prince fiddled with the box, pressing that indent before looking between it and his new pendant with a look of sudden inspiration. Tubbo gently pushed the pendant into the small indent, hearing a small _click_ as its feet slotted into place. He turned it, and to his surprise, the box opened, lid flipping up as a gentle tune played.

Tubbo looked up to Dream, eyes lit up with joy. “Do I really get to keep this?”

“Of course! It’s special, just for you! You’ve got the only key, so you’re the only one who can open it. Don’t lose that key, okay?”

“Got it!” Tubbo agreed with a determined look on his face. He tucked the pendant under his shirt and placed the music box reverently on his nightstand. Dream held out his hand expectantly. Tubbo took it. The brothers walked out of Tubbo’s room, hand-in-hand, and out towards the great party.

The party, meant to officially announce Tubbo to the public beyond just “the younger prince,” was in full swing as they arrived. Tubbo bounced excitedly, practically vibrating with unspent energy.

“I see your mood has changed,” Dream chuckled. He gazed fondly at his little brother, the seven-year-old who practically glowed with youthful joy. Tubbo always lit up every room he went in; he’d been an eternal spark in the royal family’s life, and Dream was so incredibly lucky to have him as his brother. He loved this little boy with all his heart.

The pair came to a stop behind a set of heavy red velvet curtains, Dream drawing one back just a bit to let Tubbo peer outside.

The gala was a sea of glittering glamor, high-profile guests filling the ballroom. It was the event of a lifetime, after all. The last time there’d been a party this big held by the royal family was seven years ago for Dream’s own first public appearance.

Their father, King Sparklez, had been thrown into the limelight by his own father far too soon, and he’d told his sons about all the pressure he’d felt from a very young age. So, in order to prevent a similar experience for his own children, he’d made an official ruling that they would stay out of the public eye as much as possible. He’d wanted to keep them entirely anonymous until they came of age, but the nobility had refused to allow it. The king had compromised with minimal public appearances starting after an official announcement and reveal to the public once they turned seven. Before that, though, they were entirely anonymous; only their gender and birthday were known to the people.

The gathered crowd outside didn’t know the name of the boy they were celebrating. They only even knew what he looked like now because of the newly hung painting overlooking the ballroom floor, mounted behind the thrones.

Dream was still somewhat hesitant about announcing Tubbo, even now. His little brother was so innocent and kind; he didn’t want him to end up hurt because of the expectations everyone would put on him. It had taken Sapnap and George, two of his closest friends, to even bring him out of the worried slump he was in the day before. A pit of nervousness sat in Dream’s stomach, but he ignored it and pressed on.

Tonight was a night of celebration. He’d be here, supporting his brother in every way he could and ready to sweep him from the room at a moment’s notice.

Their dad suddenly appeared behind them, sneaking up on his sons and lifting Tubbo up, shouting, “Gotcha!”

Tubbo squealed delightedly, squirming and flailing about. “No, dad, put me down, put me down!”

With an exaggerated groan, King Jordan swung his youngest son down. He reached over and ruffled Dream’s hair, eliciting an exasperated sigh from his eldest child.

“Man, have you gotten heavier since I last did this? Dream, what do you think? Is your brother getting bigger or am I just getting old?”

“Why can’t it be both?”

The king held his hands to his chest and staggered dramatically. “Oh! Betrayed, by my own son no less! How could you treat your own father like this?”

“Hey, I’ve got a throne waiting for me right out there,” Dream teased. All three knew it was a joke; Dream dreaded the moment he had to take the throne, worried about the obligations and responsibilities it would bring.

“Oh, I see how this is! Plotting to overthrow me, are you? Well, it won’t work! Tubbo, back me up here!”

Tubbo looked back and forth between his father and his brother, considering. Finally, he grabbed their dad’s hand, then Dream’s, and, with a look of intense concentration, threaded their fingers together. He stepped back from his work with a nod of satisfaction. “There. Now you have to make up and be happy!”

God, Dream loved this kid so much.

“Alright, Tubbo, you’re right, as always.”

The king nodded. “Indeed. We’ve raised a wise one here.” He turned back to the curtains, the lighthearted mood dimming slightly. “Speaking of which, it’s about time, buddy.”

Tubbo gulped nervously, but then nodded. He grabbed their dad’s hand on one side and Dream’s on the other, supported between the two.

“You ready, Tubbo?” Dream asked gently. He felt like taking Tubbo and sweeping him away and back to the safety of their rooms, but he knew this was a responsibility they had to fulfill. There was no turning back now.

A pair of attendants swept the curtains aside, light spilling into the little backstage room the royal family had been waiting in. As one, they straightened up and strode out onto the raised dais where the thrones sat.

Dream heard a herald begin their introductions.

“Presenting, His Majesty, King Jordan Sparklez of Esempi, First of His Name, Defender of the People and Hero of the Three Dimensions!”

His father waved at the audience, dignified and calm.

“Presenting, His Royal Highness, the Prince Dream of Esepmi, First of His Name, Duke of L’Manberg!”

Dream nodded to the audience, more subdued than his father.

“Presenting, for the first time, His Royal Highness, the Prince-”

But before the herald could finish introducing Tubbo and officially revealing him to the gathered nobility, the windows shattered inwards from every direction. Guests screamed in alarm, ducking away from the shards. People dressed in cobbled-together bits of armor and peasant’s clothes beneath rushed in, all of them armed with swords and crossbows. One of them shot the grand chandelier, and it tumbled to the ground, candles extinguishing as it went and sending a spray of crystals everywhere.

All hell broke loose.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A revolution is a simple thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, with this, I've officially written 100k words of fic in 2020! Which is a benchmark I never thought I'd hit! I published my first fic in August of this year, and I've kept going since! And holy fuck has MCYT gotten me writing. This fandom inspires me so much, especially all of you! It's time to ring in the new year, so let's hope for a better one! Thank you all so much for being here with me!

As the first of the attackers charged towards the royal family, the king turned towards his sons. “Dream, take Tubbo and grab your sisters! Run! Stay quiet, stay out of sight! Go, go!” He pushed Dream towards the curtains they first entered through, the older prince tugging his brother behind him.

His sons out of the way, Jordan faced the ramshackle collection of intruders. Despite the shoddy nature of their armor and weaponry, they had already managed to dispatch a significant number of his guard. His fallen defenders laid limp on the ballroom’s floor, mixed in with various members of the nobility who’d also been killed. The king’s heart twisted in his chest as he spotted several of his close friends among the dead: there was Baron Sky and the Lady Aphmau, and propped halfway up a column was kindhearted Earl Stampy.

Jordan steeled himself. He could mourn later, once this revolt had been dispatched and his family was safe.

One of the attackers approached him with deadly intent. The blond man wore no armor, clad simply in a green robe and striped hat. He didn’t even have proper shoes, just a pair of handmade sandals to protect his feet from the ground. If Jordan wasn’t so focused on the man’s deadly-sharp blade pointed towards him, he might have felt pity.

“King Sparklez,” the man announced. His voice bounced around the room, and for an instant, the clashes of swords stuttered as if to give him his moment to speak. “I stand here on behalf of all my people, of the people of this nation. You and your line are a plague on our people. You take, and you take, and you give nothing in return. Well, no more. I am here to dispense justice.”

As he began his downswing, Jordan grabbed a sword tossed to him by one of his guards – Jericho, he recognized – and parried it aside. They didn’t call him the Hero of the Three Dimensions for no reason. He’d had his mettle tested time and time again, and every time he’d come out on top. Though Jordan wished he had armor, he made do with the chaos around him and his own swordsmanship skills. His attacker was vicious and aggressive, pressing the king backward. Jordan resorted to dodging, darting and twisting around the room. At one point, he ducked behind heavy velvet drapes, the other man’s sword stabbing right through the thick fabric, before sliding down them to the floor below. His attacker wasn’t fazed, though, sliding down the banister of the closest staircase and leaping off to face him head-on.

Their swordfight went on, the two of them matching each other blow for blow. Whenever Jordan tried to jab, it was always parried away. Whenever he feinted, the other man saw through it. But similarly, Jordan blocked the slashes aimed at him every time.

He was tiring though. Jordan saw the glint of victory in the revolutionary’s eyes as they caught upon the sweat dripping down Jordan’s brow.

The king resigned himself to his loss. He knew a great swordsman when he met one, and this man was one of the best he’d ever fought. If he died here, he could be proud to have lost to this man. At least he’d managed to stall him for as long as he had. Hopefully, Dream had gotten to Lani and Drista and brought his siblings to safety. Their family was meant to go to Holandwime the next day; the carriages should be prepped to leave at a moment’s notice.

As Jordan’s sword clashed against his opponent’s once more, he felt his elbow falter. It crumpled, giving his attacker the sudden edge as Jordan lost all his leverage. A leg swept out and brought the great king to his knees, forcing him to look up at his soon-to-be killer. The pointed blade darted to the front of Jordan’s neck, its tip just barely nicking his throat.

“Any last words from the ‘Defender of the People?’” the man mocked. His eyes were hard and ruthless – he would lose no sleep from this murder, Jordan could tell.

“So long as my family lives, I die peacefully,” Jordan panted. “Take my riches, take my life, just do not hurt my family.” With that, he bowed his head, ready for the final blow.

“The royal bloodline is a foul stain upon our people. As long as even one lives, the throne can be taken once more and my people put in peril. No,” the revolutionary announced, Jordan’s blood running cold, “Every member of the royal family must die.”

Jordan looked back up to the man. Panic poured into every inch of his body. “No!”

But it was too late for the doomed king, as the man’s sword pulled back from his neck and, with one mighty thrust, plunged through his chest.

The king fell.

His brother’s hand clasped tightly in his own, Dream sprinted through the hallways of the palace back to their family’s wing. He could hear screams behind them. Fire crackled at the windows. The palace grounds were lit up in a blaze of fire, casting shuddering orange shadows as the royal brothers fled the ballroom.

Eventually, as Tubbo stumbled slightly, Dream swept him up into his arms. The elder prince ran even faster, his boots pounding the tiled floor. Even his loud footsteps and panting breaths couldn’t drown out the panicked cries of the people behind them, though. Nobility cut down, servants rounded up, the fire creeping closer to the palace itself, Dream kept his head down, clutched Tubbo closer, and pushed himself harder.

Dream turned into their family’s wing of the palace, intending to check Drista and Lani’s rooms, but then he suddenly remembered that they were being kept with a nanny in an entirely different wing. He skidded to a stop and about-faced, but then Tubbo squirmed his way out of Dream’s arms, calling, “My music box!” and darting down the hall.

“Tubbo!” Dream shouted after his brother. He was stuck in the hardest decision of his life. With his whole family in danger, which of them did he go after?

_Don’t think about Dad, don’t think about Dad, don’t think about Dad-_

Sapnap’s sudden arrival by his side saved him from having to make a choice.

“Dream-” His eyes were panicked and misty. “Dream, I just came from where your sisters were-”

The prince grabbed Sapnap’s arms desperately. “Are they okay? Sapnap, please, where are Drista and Lani? Did you get them out?”

“That – that whole wing of the palace is overrun.” Sapnap clutched Dream back with just as much fervor. “Dream – I-”

“No, no, no, not my sisters! Sapnap, _please_ , where are they? They’re only three and four, they’re _toddlers_ , Sapnap please!”

Sapnap just shook his head, pulling Dream in for a hug. All around them, fires raged and ate at the palace walls. Dream heard something crash far off. The screams didn’t stop.

Shuddering, Dream stayed still in Sapnap’s arms. Amid all the chaos, he allowed himself a single moment to grieve. Two tears dripped from his eyes – one for each sister lost. With a shaky inhale, Dream finally pulled away. He would have time to grieve later, once Tubbo was safe and they were out of here and on their way to Holandwime.

“Okay.” Dream wiped his eyes. “Alright. Sapnap, I need you to go check on the carriages. Make sure there’s one ready for us to get out. I’m going to go find Tubbo.” He heard far-off shouting drawing closer. “Go, go!”

“I’ll see you on the outside,” Sapnap said, before turning and sprinting back from where he’d come.

Dream ran into Tubbo’s room in pursuit of his brother. He’d failed to save his sisters, but he’d be damned if he let the same fate befall Tubbo. He shut the door behind him, and, for a moment, the screams quieted.

Inside his little brother’s room, Tubbo was pressing himself to the window, watching the orange-red flames lick away at their home.

“Tubbo, come on, you’ve gotta come with me, we need to go quick, come on!”

Dream’s voice startled Tubbo from his staring. The boy snatched his music box from his nightstand while Dream took a coat from his closet and bundled Tubbo up. The older prince would be able to survive without.

From a crack in the door, though, Dream caught a glimpse of the stretching shadows of a mob approaching. He picked out swords among the shadows and gulped.

They were trapped.

The older prince shut the door again. “Alright, new plan. Um…”

Fuck, he was supposed to be better than this! His brother was relying on him, looking at him with such trusting eyes that it hurt Dream. He needed a plan; he needed a way to save the rest of his family!

“Over here!” a young voice called. Dream’s head whipped in the direction of its source.

To his surprise, a section of the wall had twisted open. A young boy with a red neckerchief tied around his neck, his blond hair slightly dusty, poked his head through the opening. He waved them over frantically.

Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Dream shoved Tubbo forward. “Go, Tubbo, go!”

His little brother clambered into the hole. But as he squeezed through, the music box slipped out of his pocket and clattered onto the floor. “No!” Tubbo cried, but Dream crouched down and followed Tubbo in before he could grab it.

The princes shuffled deeper into the small passage as the servant boy shut the door behind them. It seemed as though it was just in time, too. Dream heard the door to Tubbo’s room open and a loud voice begin interrogating the boy.

Dream held his breath and pressed a hand over Tubbo’s mouth too.

“Where are they?” the voice shouted.

“Fuck you!”

“They have to be in here somewhere. Search the building!”

Glad that they hadn’t been sold out, Dream sighed slightly before ushering Tubbo down the passageway.

They followed its twists and turns, navigating by feel through the dark and dusty tunnel until it let out through another hidden panel into a discreet room in the servant’s wing. Dream popped his head out first, scanning for signs of anybody, though it seemed they were lucky. This area had been scoured, whole sections burned and smoldering.

Quietly, oh so quietly, Dream slipped out of the passage. He lifted Tubbo out behind him. He recognized where they were now.

The older prince slid through the shattered window, his boots crunching in the snow beneath him, and once more pulled Tubbo through. He grabbed Tubbo’s hand. “On three, we’re going to run as fast as we can to the carriage house, okay?” Tubbo nodded nervously. “Ready? One, two, _three_!”

The brothers sprinted across the snowy grounds. Snow flew up behind them, kicked up by their feet. Distantly, Dream heard the shouting reignite in intensity.

A horde of nobles met up with the young princes, all of them desperate to escape and following their example. They pressed in around the brothers, pushing and pulling until Dream couldn’t tell who was who or which direction was up. He felt Tubbo’s hand slip from his. “No!”

“Dream!” he heard from somewhere deeper in the crowd.

He was so close to the carriage house, so close to safety, but his brother was at stake. This choice was a simple one.

Dream turned around, abandoning his course and searching for Tubbo. “Where are you? Yell if you can hear me!”

“Dream!” Tubbo’s voice was fainter, further off. Dream cursed.

As he finally breached the back of the crowd, he understood why they were running so frantically. A mob of the revolutionaries was chasing them, all of them armed and baying for blood. One of them was far further ahead than the rest.

Dream slipped as he tried to change directions. This fall, though, may have saved his life, as the person leading the pack, a blond man dressed all in green, his sword already reddened, swiped at him. Rather than taking his head off, the blade nicked Dream across the face, scoring a deep cut.

Dream cried out in agony. He cupped his hand to his face instinctively, clutching at the wound. Blood dripped through his fingertips.

From his position on his knees, Dream peeked through his fingers at the man. The attacker reared back for another strike, but before he could, Dream’s friends arrived from nowhere like a pair of guardian angels. Sapnap and George, one with a sword and another with a crossbow, stepped in. Sapnap blocked the strike while George shot his arrow. It hit the man and lodged deep into his sword arm. He cursed and grabbed the wound, pulling out the arrow, but it was too late.

Sapnap and George took that precious time to pull Dream away. He scrambled to his feet and followed them, but they had to start dragging him once he realized they didn’t have Tubbo with them. “No, no, where’s Tubbo? Sapnap, George? Where is he? Please, not him too!” He turned his head from side to side, calling desperately. Fuck their tradition of hiding the royals’ names, this was more important. “Tubbo! Tubbo, where are you!”

His friends apologized profusely but didn’t swerve or change course. They pulled him into the final carriage. Sapnap climbed into the driver’s seat and set the horses off.

Dream continued shouting all the while, his body halfway out the window. “Tubbo! I’ll find you in Holandwime! I promise!”

“TUBBO!”

Alone, confused, frightened, Tubbo was inches from a breakdown. This was supposed to have been his birthday celebration. Instead, he was forced from his home as it went up in flames behind him. People were screaming, some in fear, some in anger, and he was just trying to do his best to find his big brother.

He was failing at that simple task, too, though. Tubbo had lost his grip on Dream’s hand when the big crowd of people had rushed around them. Now, even though he was at his own home, he felt hopelessly lost. The fire burned bright. It had already destroyed most of the landmarks on the palace grounds. This place where he’d frolicked in the summertime looked like a wasteland. He hated it.

Turning in the direction of where he thought the carriage house was, Tubbo called out for his brother. “Dream? Dream!”

When he’d yelled earlier, he’d faintly heard Dream respond. Now, though, all that Tubbo could make out were the distant screams.

His clothes were covered in dust and dirt, his coat was ripped at the hem, and he shivered. It had barely been any time since he’d been in that ballroom, ready to be announced for the first time, his clothes pristine and polished. Tubbo had been so proud there, too. He’d looked like Dream in his outfit, and he’d stood as straight and tall as his Dad.

He didn’t like how little time it had taken for all that to change.

Tubbo wanted to cry. He wanted Dream, he wanted his Dad, he wanted Lani and Drista. Where was his family? Where were they?

The young prince started trudging through the snow. All his energy had been spent in that desperate sprint and his frantic cries for his brother. A nap now would be wonderful. But, no. Dream had told him to go to the carriage house, that it was important, and Tubbo knew that Dream was right.

His trek was interrupted by a cough from behind him. There stood a pink-haired boy, about Dream’s age. He wore similar clothes to all those people that had stormed the ballroom. He carried a crossbow, too. But this boy’s weapon was different. Rather than the silver-tipped arrows that Tubbo had seen, his crossbow was loaded with a thick firework.

Tubbo stared at the boy. The boy stared back.

Neither of them moved.

A scream echoed, then went silent.

The fire roared.

Slowly, the boy raised his crossbow to point it straight at Tubbo. The prince gulped. He clutched his pendant from Dream close.

Another shout rang out, then suddenly cut off.

Tubbo watched the weapon shake, just barely.

The boy pulled the trigger.

The firework screamed its way out of the crossbow, rocketing towards Tubbo. The prince barely had time to flinch.

It flew past him, inches from his head.

Tubbo squeezed his eyes shut.

The firework exploded into the air, whistling and popping.

A wave of cheers rose up in the distance.

Tubbo opened his eyes.

The boy stared at him still, lowering his slightly-smoking weapon. He didn’t move.

But Tubbo did.

He turned, and he ran and he ran and he ran. He didn’t know where he was going anymore, too disoriented by his near-death experiences and the chaos of the whole night.

Somehow, Tubbo found the palace gate. The young prince ran towards it, sprinting as fast as his legs could carry him. Slipping out between the little gaps in the gates, he pushed on into the woods. He was sure that he looked a sight, nothing like a prince anymore. He could pass for any street urchin at this point, a random kid out too late and looking for trouble.

While Tubbo hated it, it was this fact that saved his life.

In the darkened forest, he ran directly into a man patrolling the trees. The boy toppled to the ground. As he looked up at the man he’d hit, the faint bits of firelight illuminated a crossbow held tightly in his hand.

Tubbo screamed instinctively.

The man, also instinctively, hit Tubbo on the head.

As the world darkened at the edges, the only light left the orange-white gleam of fire reflecting on the snow, Tubbo clutched his pendant close.

He passed out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A note I thought I'd make: Holandwime is a word I made up to replace Paris in this AU. If L'Manberg is St. Petersberg, I needed a place to fit Paris. Eventually, I decided on the Holy Lands, but I couldn't just say "Together in the Holy Lands," so I made a word out of "The Holy Lands of Twitch Prime" - Holandwime. Hopefully that makes sense!
> 
> Anyways, rip the Captain, Philza Minecraft came for him. 
> 
> Comments are my lifeblood! I love to see them, and opening up a discussion or asking questions is pretty much guaranteed to get an answer from me!
> 
> Once again, thank you for all the support from this year!

**Author's Note:**

> Please, imagine, if you will, the music box plays "Blocks"
> 
> That is all.
> 
> Thank you for reading!! Feel free to leave a comment, they fuel me and bring me probably unhealthy amounts of joy. Stay safe out there!


End file.
